


Smothered

by sunshinestealer



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: M/M, coerced relationship, eventual Kevin/Ricardo, just Desert Bluffs creepiness tbh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-02 10:50:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2809628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshinestealer/pseuds/sunshinestealer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A take on Desert Bluff's equivalent of Carlos moving in and meeting its local radio host, who proceeds to smother him with his unique brand of affection.</p><p>There's gonna be a lot of Desert Bluffs headcanon.</p><p>If there are any moments that contradict canon or are OOC for the new episodes, I apologise. I haven't caught up in about half a year. Hopefully it's all good, though!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

When Ricardo first arrives in Desert Bluffs, there is, admittedly, a culture shock. He has never seen a community quite like this, and it piques his interest immensely. The desert town where the residents are perpetually happy and every creature comfort and communal project is funded by the hard work of the drones, flitting in and out of the hive that is Strex Corp's main building, an enormous, palatial complex that seems to glitter in the midday sun.

—

Strex Corp had made their appearance at his university's postgraduate careers fair. Ricardo had just finished his PhD in physics. The Strex recruiters shake his hand vigorously, extremely keen to interview him over the telephone after a brief look through his resume. “Don't call us. We'll call you.” They say, smiles never faltering. They happily pet his shoulder in turn, and Ricardo goes on his merry way.

There's still a career path in the military available to Ricardo, or perhaps another job at a research lab in the city on one of the rainiest areas of the East Coast. Ricardo's dream – at least, what he _thought_ was his dream – is to become a scientist at CERN. Clean living in Switzerland, being paid to work amongst the top minds in various scientific fields. Heaven. 

But... He looks at the flyer in his hand. He hasn't dared to crumple it up or throw it away, and has it neatly folded in his pocket. He reads it on his commutes to and from his current job, a drudgery carried out in an office above a work floor that makes small parts for computers. He even takes it out to read in the break room, and while his databases and spreadsheets are processing on a computer that hasn't been replaced since at least the year 2005.

He enjoys looking at the pictures. There are several printed throughout the flyer, but the most eye-catching is the one featuring joyful-looking Strex employees at a company picnic. Ricardo looks over his cubicle at the other data entry clerks and sees nothing but misery on their faces. The steely gray weather that morning doesn't help the situation any, and nor does the presence of a corpulent boss who stomps in every two hours to bark something about “targets and productivity” before sauntering back into his private office. 

Ricardo doesn't notice the subliminal messages written into the text of Strex's recruitment pamphlet, clandestinely written in a color of ink that's hard to distinguish with the naked eye, but perfectly visible on a subconscious level.

Going to the town of 'Desert Bluffs', the headquarters of Strex Corp Synernists Incorporated, would involve a cross-country move. Ricardo asks every Californian he knows if they're aware of a quiet burg called Desert Bluffs, near the border with Arizona. They shrug. 

He details his classmates about the recruiters at the fair that day, only to be met with silence, or an assertion that they didn't see anybody fitting Ricardo's description at the careers fair.

Ricardo even wonders if he's dreamed it all. Impossible. He was well-rested that day, and he knows he saw two men in sleek black designer suits with dark golden ties and a brooch on their lapels – a pyramid containing the letter 'S'. They shook his hand firmly and were very glad to have met him. Ricardo can remember just how genuine those smiles seemed. Perhaps, he reasons, they were very, very selective in the kinds of candidates they would consider. Not everyone graduated top of the class.

Finally, Ricardo gives his notice in at work, and takes to sitting around his annex of his apartment, waiting for that one precious phone call. He even acquires a habit of bringing his cell and his house phone into his bedroom, just in case Strex call him late at night due to the time difference.

The phone rings during breakfast one morning, and Ricardo no longer has to get irritated with a telemarketer, or hurry through a conversation with his friends. 

“Good morning!” The voice down the phone chirps. “Do I have the pleasure of speaking to Dr. Ricardo de Souza?”

“Uh, speaking!” Ricardo stutters, and clears his throat to compose himself.

No sooner than he confirms his name, the caller exhales in what sounds like rapture, then continues on as if imparting the best news he's ever heard. “Dr. de Souza, on behalf of all of us at Strex Corp Synernists Incorporated, we would like to thank you for attending our recruitment programme at you careers fair!”

“You're welcome.” Ricardo smiles, in spite of himself.

After some insipid phone conversation, including a few questions he had about Desert Bluffs – all answered pragmatically by the representative, who assures him Strex want all of their workers to be happy. The CEO and the other executives regularly come down onto the work floor, Strex offers amazing benefits based on productivity, and they make sure they have the latest equipment for whichever job Ricardo could do, with “such eminent credentials.” 

The representative goes on to say that Ricardo might best fit into the laboratories where Strex experiment in 'synernising' energy. Ricardo has no idea what that means, but before he can ask if they mean _synergising_ , the representative segues into: “So, are you ready for your phone interview? Or, if it all goes very well – which I'm sure it will! – the rest of our professional life together?”

Ricardo breathes out. “ _Yes_.”

—

As it turns out, Ricardo passes the interview with flying colors. The phone operator cheerily tells him as much when they're done. All he has to do now is sign his work contract, which will be mailed to him ASAP, and also fill out a form from Strex that will smooth along his move to Desert Bluffs. Ricardo is promised that there will be a vacant house waiting for him, and a full welcoming committee at his new workplace.

“Welcome to the family, Dr. de Souza! We at Strex are _so_ glad to have a new face amongst our ranks! We'll be seeing you in about a month! Isn't that exciting? Well, Dr. de Souza, I hope you have an absolutely _wonderful_ day, and we look forward to seeing you soon. Bye bye!”

Ricardo puts down the phone and exhales, pacing around his apartment. He still can't believe this has happened. He's now an adult. He's not an unemployed young graduate with plans to move back into his mother's house now that his tenancy is coming to a close and the rent's gone up too much. He's now a fully-fledged adult with a career and a home to make his own, even if it is across the country, and never in his life has he gone anywhere further than North Carolina, to stay with his grandparents in the summer.

He takes to checking his post box every single day, even catching up with the postman at one point to see if there's any mail for him from California. Ricardo also decides to look up Desert Bluffs online, but doesn't find very much information. Strex Corp have a large, flashy and professional website, but there are no Yelp reviews of local businesses, no travel blogs, there's no website for the local sheriff's office or the newspaper, and the images of the town he can find on non-Strex websites aren't very good quality. It _is_ a small town, after all – he supposes Internet access might be a luxury in the desert, and that it's not often visited due to being in the middle of nowhere. It happens, right?

—

When the contract does eventually arrive in the mail, Ricardo sets it on his coffee table and reads it very carefully. Nothing out of the ordinary so far. The wage is good, the targets are easily surmountable. Unlike his previous job, he's entitled to a few more weeks of holiday, and there seem to be no draconian rules about lunch break. There's also a great health and dental insurance plan, and as the rain continues to fall heavily outside, Ricardo can't help but be envious looking at the photo of the happy workmates on a picnic, basking in the sun.

The form Strex Corp send him isn't too difficult to decipher either. It's just his social security number, any accommodations he needs for his new home, how many vacations he might need, et cetera. He goes into the city to notarise his PhD, thankful that his father operates a law firm and has plenty of contacts to get the job done quickly. 

With all the paperwork done, Ricardo has a week to say goodbye to friends and family. 

His father shakes his hand and gives him a quick embrace, far too busy to even come to the family dinner his mother has arranged. (Ricardo's mother is upset, but loudly exclaims that's the reason they split up.) Ricardo's aunts and uncles wish him the best, and while Ricardo's apartment is mostly packed up by now, everyone has bought him a box of new kitchen utensils or bath towels, and new suitcases, as if Ricardo has never gone off to live by himself before. He's thankful for everything, and even has a short cry whilst sleeping on his mother's sofa bed that night.

The goodbye dinner with his friends also brings Ricardo to tears. They take him to their favourite French restaurant, buying a bottle of wine and presenting him with all kinds of little personalised gifts. There's even a handmade cross-stitched plaque to put up in the hall – a bright little sun beaming over a desert expanse, with the words HOME SWEET HOME in black and gold lettering. At the end of the night, Ricardo is driven to their favourite undergrad hangout, on a hill overlooking the city, and he hugs every one of his friends in turn, promising to keep in touch. 

—

Ricardo's car is now stuffed to the gills with everything he'll need for his cross-country move. His mother gets him to roll down the car window just as he puts the key in ignition, whispering that she'd happily come and stay with him for the week to help him get acclimatised to his new home.

“Nah, Mom. I'll be fine!” Ricardo says, giving her his winning smile. “You take care of yourself, and I'll be back for Christmas, okay?”

She sobs “okay” back, and waves vehemently with the rest of the family as Ricardo pulls out of the drive, and leaves town. He plans to stay in a hotel at least twice during this trip, and has several new audiobooks in his CD player.

The journey is long and utterly tedious. Ricardo passes through miles and miles of small towns, farmland, industrial sites, repetitious tableaus that make him wonder if his GPS isn't just sending him in circles.

The first hotel he pulls into sets him up on a hard mattress with a lumpy pillow, a room so sparsely decorated one could call it a renovated storage container. He has a fairly nice view... of the parking lot and the small town beyond, but Ricardo just wants to sleep for now.

The next few hotels pass in much the same manner. Ricardo pushes himself to drive just that little bit further every day, despite the back pain and light fatigue setting in from his lack of a good night's sleep. 

When Ricardo makes it across the border into Arizona early one morning, he cheers a little bit to himself, then takes a break at a diner to consult the map a little bit more thoroughly. He assumes he's too far east of the Californian border for anybody to know where he might be going, and simply asks for the best route to take for the next 6-8 hours of driving.

The waitress prods at his Google Maps print-out, suggests a highway, and sets down a pitcher of coffee and a stack of pancakes. Ricardo wolfs it down without a second thought, heading out for another full day in the car.

The next day, after a lackluster continental breakfast in a run-down motel, Ricardo makes it partially across the Californian border, which is precisely where the instructions on his print-out finish. He asks around the small town he finds himself in, but nobody has heard of Desert Bluffs. If they have, they just motion way further out into the desert. The gas station attendant he asks simply shrugs and warns him about the dangers of running out of gas in the most desolate desert regions as he drives out of town.

The attendant also gives Ricardo's car a once-over, which the scientist is thankful for. Once he's filled up and out of town, Ricardo pulls over and dials the number his new job have given him. He supposes it’ll be the last time he’ll find anywhere with decent cell reception, so he might as well make the most of it.

To his surprise, the representative at Strex Corp picks up the phone almost immediately. “Hello, Ricardo!”

Ricardo smiles a little thinly — they must have Caller ID in place. “I’m a little bit lost. I think I’m just about in California, but I can’t seem to find you on a map at all.” He stutters a little, still nervous about the big move.

_“Oh!”_ The voice comes out as if they finally figured out the answer to life itself. _“That’s_ where you are! One of our vans has been reporting back, saying you were nowhere to be found! Your mother was very kind, though. Did you know that she makes the _best_ spiced chai?”

Ricardo blinks. “You’ve met my mom? I mean… Yes. I’m here, just over the border from Arizona. I thought I told you I was travelling here from New York.”

“Ricardo, don’t you recall our offer to come and pick you up ourselves? Strex want only the best for their workers! Perhaps the person who transcribed the phone interview got mixed up and didn’t inform H&R that one of our black vans wouldn’t be necessary for you. Sorry for the inconvenience!”

“It’s no problem. I just… need directions. I feel like I’m being sent in circles. GPSes, you know?” He forces a little laugh.

The representative laughs too — a little longer than Ricardo would have thought was necessary. It wasn’t that funny, after all. After praising Ricardo for such a knee-slapper, the Strex drone informs him of exactly what highway to take, with a rather eerie accuracy as to where he is. Ricardo shrugs. They’re probably using their own computers and consulting Google Maps. 

“Then you’ve got to take this exit,” the voice down the phone states. Their voice becomes rather icy for a moment. “In fact, we recruited somebody _years_ ago from a similar background to you, to work in our scientific department. And they drove into Night Vale.” Then, all of a sudden, their voice raises to a chirp. “Never saw them again after that, they presumably found a better job offer there. Oh well! You win some and you lose some!”

Ricardo is a little on edge from the joking little asides. But he knows he’s come too far to question Strex, and potentially jeopardise his chances with the company. So he grits his teeth and nods, before continuing. “Thanks for the instructions. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“According to our estimations, _two hours, fifty three minutes and forty two seconds._ Bye bye, Ricardo!”

The phone clicks.

Ricardo doesn’t know whether to be terrified or just amazed. Perhaps Strex’s technologies really are that first-rate.

George Orwell’s _1984_ is the next audiobook in rotation on his car’s stereo. He sighs and switches it out for a Terry Pratchett CD. Something to calm his nerves, at least.

—

Ricardo wasn’t timing himself, but the Strex representative was accurate in their calculations. Just under three hours later, he rolls into town. He’s stunned by the sight of the main Strex building, and all his regrets and nerves seem to slip away. There’s a space in the parking lot with his name on it, and the receptionist on the first floor shakes his hand with vigour before taking him towards a boardroom to meet his bosses.

They all rise as he is ushered in, sporting huge grins and firm, friendly handshakes. Every single one of them is impeccably groomed, business cards at the ready. Every sentence is punctuated with ‘productivity’, or ‘dynamic workflow’, every business buzz-word one could think of. Ricardo feels a little out of his depth already, but shakes hands with each of them in turn, chatting along with them about the upcoming baseball tournament.

However, Ricardo isn’t the only scientist who’s been recruited recently. Just the only one who’s come from so far away. Everybody else in the small team Ricardo will be running are interns, fresh out of the local high school or college and looking for experience in the field of science and technology. 

Strex have organised a mixer party for tonight in the community centre, and the parties they throw are supposedly the talk of the town.

The bosses leave, and Ricardo is ushered towards a group of personal assistants, who have been assigned to help him move into his new home. Officially, Ricardo starts work tomorrow — he’s expected in by 9am, and will have half a day’s worth of training with somebody higher up in the science department. Then he and his team are free to do whatever the company would like them to do. 

“Or,” one assistant informs him, “whatever else you feel needs investigating in the town. That’s what scientists do, right?”

Ricardo finds the constant stream of jolly banter and giggles a little… off-putting. But he goes along with it, not wanting to be seen as a ‘party pooper.’ He’s hardly a cynic, but something about the high pitch of the voices is setting his teeth on edge. Still, he can at least pretend he’s smiling along with his colleagues.

Ricardo isn’t given an opportunity to look into his office, but he and the assistants walk past it as they give him a little tour of the area around the laboratories. So far, so normal. A golden “WELCOME!” banner has already been hung up over the archway into his cubicle, and the computer, Ricardo is pleased to see, is a brand new model with a three screen set-up. 

His new home is very much the same. The assistants follow him there in a company car, eager to grab boxes and bags out of his trunk. 

The heat in Desert Bluffs has necessitated the building of homes like Spanish villas, all neatly in suburban rows. There are wide open spaces in the house to let air circulate, although there is also air conditioning available.

He wonders out loud about the neighbors. Supposedly, he will meet them all at the party tonight. 

“It’ll be a surprise!”

Frankly, Ricardo’s exhausted and thinks of making some excuse about not going. But it’s being thrown for him, so it would be rude not to just show up. There’s no food in the house yet, so he can at least get something to eat at the buffet table.

When the assistants are all gone, Ricardo flops back onto the sofa, over the arm, just content to lie amongst the cushions for a while. It’s been a long couple of days, and he needs to take a nap. The house is eerily quiet, but that doesn’t bother him. He drifts off into a pleasant sleep, after setting an alarm on his phone for a few hours later.

He’s not totally looking forward to the party, but at least he’ll be rested enough to make a decent first impression with the townspeople. Even if they are too friendly by his standards. Maybe that’s just the way it is out here.


	2. Chapter 2

You wake up to the tune of a soft indie ballad on your phone. For two minutes, you lay reminiscing - the track is from an album you used to listen to all the time in college. 

Many students in the big city have a phase of reading philosophical novels, smoking and drinking coffee. The dreaded hipster phase. You never believed it would happen to you, but it did, during the first year of undergrad. You read Marx, Derrida, Diderot, Kant and Nietzsche. You donned scarves and a flat cap over your mop of black curls, and bought a new, thicker frame for your glasses.

Every week, you went to a little Belgian coffee shop that did the best caramel waffles in the borough. And the best poetry readings. 

That’s where you met your first love. They finished their set at open mic night, and noticed the spark of attraction, and you could hardly keep your eyes off each other. They left a note with the barista with their phone number attached, winking at you on their way out. 

Your first date followed after that. Then another. And another, until you were seeing each other at least twice a week. At the beginning of sophomore year, you started to live together, in your first apartment that wasn’t attached to a student accommodation block.

This album was playing on a loop in the apartment’s new stereo on moving day. Sweating in the August heat and carting heavy boxes up and down four flights of stairs was never something either of you would recommend. But, with some assistance from friends, the job slipped by after a couple of hours.

You flopped down together with your lover on the busted brown couch left here by the apartment’s former tenant, cuddling close with a pizza laying half-nibbled in a box on the coffee table. You fell asleep together to the soothing sounds of the lead vocalist’s rich baritone.

All good things must come to an end, you mused. It was a particularly messy break-up, and over before the end of your junior year. For whatever reason, you just drifted apart. They left the city for financial reasons. Heartbroken, you dropped contact with them and fell back into the company of your group of friends, who all went far beyond their call of duty to make sure you were emotionally stable and on top of your studies, too.

Sometimes you wonder where they ended up. They don’t show up on social media sites, beyond a rarely-updated Twitter account. The last you heard, they moved back home to Oregon. You still wish them all the best.

Your life went on as normal. And you hope it’s going to continue to be normal, once you settle into life in ’the Bluffs’, as the city is nicknamed. Nobody here seems particularly malicious — just happy with their way of life. You’ve met people before who seemed overly welcoming. Perhaps growing up in New York has just hardened you. In your time living there, your neighbours hardly noticed your existence, let alone threw parties and rolled out the red carpet.

Strex Corp must be some start-up company. That’s it. They work to cultivate a friendly environment for their employees in a manner similar to Google, and other tech companies you’ve heard of in Silicon Valley. Not that you’re anywhere _near_ Silicon Valley, but that doesn’t matter. 

You seem to be calming down more and more as you think of life in Desert Bluffs. This time, you don’t have to work to soothe your anxiety — it just seems to come naturally.

Pressing your face into a cushion, you yawn before finally sitting up. You click the little switch on the side of your phone that switches off the alarm, which you’d been pleasantly listening along to.

To your surprise, you notice a glass of water on the coffee table. Next to it is a small box of Strex-branded painkillers, resting atop a note. 

‘Moving can be such a headache! Just thinking of your well-being. Hope you’re settled in and well-rested! Signed, the Strex family.’

The note is on official Strex note paper. The footer has the S pyramid logo rendered in a shining gold in the centre, next to the infinity symbol. 

Well, Strex certainly have their fingers in a lot of pies. Energy, resource management, top level business, pharmaceuticals… Enough to run an entire city on their own, without much government interference, it seems.  

_It is… everything._

You leave the paracetamol box alone for now, downing the glass of water. Your head is far from aching, but it is fuzzy in your post-nap stupor. You pour yourself another glass of water from the Brita pitcher in the fridge, and realize something — you have no idea how to get to the community center tonight. Nor did they tell you exactly _when_ to arrive at the party. Just that it was happening, and that you were expected there.

Well, there’s no possible way for you to get lost in a city this small. Come on. There are bigger _neighborhoods_ back in New York. Right now, you’re in need of a shower and a change of clothing. You’re going to wear the suit you had tailored back in New York, as a gift to yourself. You’re slightly pudgy from a sedentary student lifestyle, but the suit makes you look knife sharp. It has a sleek, trimmed black jacket and trousers, and you also splashed out on a crisp designer shirt and tie. The latter is gold, of course, in the company colors. It may come across as trying too hard, but you met the Strex representatives earlier. You’re sure they’ll appreciate your effort with some enthusiasm. 

The shower is just the thing you need after what feels like such a long day. The cool water wakes you up, and you’re glad to find that you have one last ration of hotel shampoo in your wash bag.  

Half an hour later, you’re ready to look around the city, every bit the well-dressed Strex employee. You want to show pride in yourself — you’re an adult now, a scientist who’s about to lead a team of young adults in a big project for a large company. 

You affect a slight strut as you walk from the suburbs and towards the high-rise buildings. If you get terribly lost, you can always use the main Strex building as a landmark. Maybe even ask in reception for directions. _That’s Strex for you; always happy to help!_

You blink at that last thought, which came completely unbidden. You clear your throat, deciding you must have remembered something from your tour around your office earlier in the day. You’d have to be a fool — no, a complete tin-foil hat wearing buffoon of a conspiracy theorist — to think that there was something in the water around here. It’s probably just jitters from moving all the way across the country, in an unfamiliar environment. Maybe you’re experiencing some culture shock. North Carolina felt different from New York when you vacationed there. Values can change across state lines — and you’ve just crossed through roughly nine. Of course this area of California’s going to seem a little odd. You’ll get used to it.

There are a few people out as you pass through the streets towards the city. All of whom smile and wave, or point you out and whisper amongst themselves. One young woman runs up to you and asks if you know your way to the community hall, since you look new in town. 

As it turns out, the location of the party is right on the northern edge of the suburbs. It’s more like a convention center, apparently. It was built to serve as a hub for employees to gather for company conferences, fundraisers, potlucks and mixers. Such as the one you’ll be being welcomed at tonight.

You tell her that you were planning to go into the city and ask directions. She dismisses it as a silly idea, and then grins, apologizing for not introducing herself earlier. “Esther Pattinson. Junior manager for Strex’s accounting department.” Her hand is offered out for you to shake. 

“Dr. Ricardo de Souza. Head scientist for Strex Corp’s energy synthesis program.”

“How _neat!_ You know, I don’t think I’ve ever spoken to a scientist before.”

“You haven’t?” That struck you as rather odd. Surely Ms. Pattinson took science classes at school. You shrug it off again. Perhaps she just means that she’s never really in contact with the people in Strex’s science and research department. She probably processes the department’s expenses form on her computer, and that’s that. “Well, I’m… kind of in need of friends right now. So… since you’re one of the first people I’ve met, you can come down and visit any time. Maybe go for lunch.” Your attempt at this kind of friendliness feels weirdly artificial, but deep down, there’s a sincerity about it. Hopefully it wasn’t too saccharine. 

Esther stops, and beams at you. “What a lovely invitation, Dr. de Souza. I’d be glad to take you up on it.” Then she continues walking, a little faster this time around. She hesitates in her body language a few times, but you don’t want to comment. Maybe you’ve unintentionally made her nervous.

“No need to be polite, I mean, if you don’t want to, then you don’t have to.”

The Strex employee nods, and continues on her way. “Don’t worry,” she says, “we’re all like a big family. I just really want to get you to your party!”

“Lead the way, then.”

—

You have always hated surprise parties. It just feels so lame and cheesy when you walk in the door, go to flick the light on and there’s a whole bunch of people there with a cake and balloons. Similarly, you wanted to crawl in a hole and die when your friends told the waiter at Red Lobster that it was your birthday, and they promptly returned with a slice of cake, dimmed the lights and got the whole restaurant to join in on a Happy Birthday chorus.

Thankfully, the party is already underway when you walk in with Esther. It has the same atmosphere of every work mixer you’ve attended, but with a markedly professional air. There’s a banner hung up on one of the off-white walls, stating: ‘STREX WELCOMES DR. RICARDO DE SOUZA.’ Below that is the buffet table. You’re desperate to cross through the throng of people and just wait to be introduced quietly, but you’re not going to get that luxury.

The entertainment for tonight is provided by a band whose music sounds… a little odd to your ears. Like the past meeting the future. Definitely experimental, but mellow enough to hear at such a gathering. Their lead vocalist is exactly what you expect from a band like this — tall, and crooning into a stand-up mic like Frank Sinatra.

You nod your head along to it for a few more bars, and then cringe. Whoever is in charge of lighting has noticed your arrival, and shone a spotlight right over you, which is the musicians’ cue to stop playing for the moment. 

Esther has already disappeared into the crowd join in the applause as your name is announced. You spot her and swallow nervously, not sure how to react. You’ve received awards before, but being put on the spot like this and applauded is… well, awkward. Still, you do your best to smile.

_Oh._

It dawns on you that perhaps they expected you to have a speech prepared. The band’s lead singer beckons you onto the stage, and hands you the microphone.

Speaking in public has never been your strong suit. You stammered during presentations and begged your professors to not mark you down for your anxiety. You could never perform at an open mic night. But somehow, you know that you must do this. For the  _greater good_. 

“Hello, Desert Bluffs. Thank you so much for the welcome! As I’m sure you’re all aware… uh, I’m Dr. Ricardo de Souza. I’ll be in charge of a team of scientists at Strex Corp. It’s, um, a pleasure to meet you all, and you’ve been all so welcoming so far. It’s been a long journey here from New York, and you’ve made the transition almost seamless. I’d like to thank you for that. Any other questions, you know where to find me. Again, uh, thanks. Here's to a long and prosperous working relationship."

The crowd cheers and raises their glasses, before returning to their own conversations. 

You hand the microphone back to the singer, a smile pulling at your features despite your nerves. Your teeth were almost chattering back there. As you leave the stage, you want to make a desperate run for the toilets and go to compose yourself. 

_But that wouldn’t be right now, would it?_

_Not when everyone’s so happy to see you._

So, you walk into the crowd, and take a flute of wine and some canapés from the buffet table. The conversations you have with the employees of the company are engaging, and you feel your nerves melting away after a little while. You smile thinly as the night goes on and introductions and social niceties get more and more repetitive, and find yourself retiring towards a set of plastic chairs.

That’s when _he_ arrives.

The radio journalist. With a small PDA in his hand and a grin that seems to reach up to his ears. Some might say that it’s definitely _not_ a smile. His eyes are just… blank. A deep hollowness that is screamingly, repulsively _wrong_ — but you ignore it. Wouldn’t want to disturb the peace in this community, or make any enemies.

“Ricardo!” the voice of Desert Bluffs chirps, eagerly taking your hand and squeezing. He’s got quite a grip. You almost have to be prompted to shake back. “Boy, is it a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise, mister…?”

“Free. Kevin R. Free. Host of Desert Bluffs Radio. The one, the only.” His hand slips free and he chuckles, sliding the stylus out from the top of his device. “May I conduct a brief interview with you, Dr. de Souza? I’m sure some people weren’t able to make it to the party tonight. So, we can tell them all about it via the medium of public radio.”

You shrug. You’ve done interviews before — one of your friends did a degree in Journalism, after all, and wrote an article on your achievements for the school paper. “I wouldn’t mind, Mr. Free.”

“Oh, it’s _Kevin._ ”

“Kevin. Uh… Are you sure this environment isn’t too noisy or distracting for you? Can't I come by your station some time for the interview?”

He blinks at you, holding his stylus on the screen. “But this way, we don’t have to dilly-dally! We can get the news out to the town by tomorrow afternoon. A local broadcaster’s job is to get out this information to the community as quickly as possible. And Strex Corp themselves wanted me to speak to you tonight. Isn’t that nice of them?”

“I’m pretty sure the whole town knows about my arrival,” you say, taking a sip of your wine. “Are new arrivals a particularly big deal ‘round these parts?”

Kevin’s lips curl up a little more. “Oh, yes. Especially considering you’re from the Big Apple. You must have had such an exciting upbringing. Do you think you can bring these new values and ideas in to your working life, for the benefit of Strex?”

“I… of course.” The question is odd, but Kevin’s tone is so earnest that you can’t help but want to answer him. You can’t help but want to get closer to him, in fact. He’s attractive, in a way you can’t quite fathom. 

If there’s one thing you are attracted to, though, it’s that his voice puts you at ease. There’s a warm humor to it. It’s syrupy, but not sickening. He speaks with you as if you’ve been best pals for years, and it doesn’t at all come across as strange.

He continues to conduct his interview, sensing that perhaps you’re going to need a little bit of prodding. So, he does just that. The interview questions are never too much for you, but he’s careful to draw you back on the right path if you go on a tangent, and he suggests words when you start stammering.

You check your watch. It’s been thirty minutes, and the party’s guests are starting to dwindle. 

“Oh, yeah. I’ve got an early start tomorrow…” You remind Kevin, looking over the hall.

Kevin looks up from his PDA, just finishing scribbling one last sentence. “So do I, Ricardo. So do I. In fact, we all do. Strex takes productivity seriously. _Very_ seriously.”

“I know that.” In fact, it’s been hammered into your head ever since you got here. “Strex must be one hell of a company.”

“One _heck_ of a company,” Kevin corrects. _What is he, Amish?_ You ignore the thought.

You’re not normally a lightweight, but the fatigue from the days you’ve spent moving here, in combination with the wine has made your head a little fuzzy. Your hand reaches up to one of your temples, rubbing it as you feel the beginnings of a headache. 

“You’ll have to excuse me, Kevin. I’m going to need to rest if I’m going to give it my all at work tomorrow.”

“Oh, of course!” The radio host nods, and assists you in standing up. Not that you need help with walking, you’re not that drunk. But, tipsiness and exhaustion are not good bedfellows, and you have to prevent yourself from stumbling.

Kevin chuckles, a silly, light-hearted noise. “I have my car parked outside. I’ll drive you home.”

“I walked,” you protest. “I’m fine, honestly.”

“But Ricardo! What if you were to fall asleep in someone’s garden on the way home, and miss your first day of work? That would be _dreadful_. So many college kids do that. It’s terrible.”

“I’m not a college kid.”

“No, of course you’re not. You’re a highly respectable… _scientist_.” He chews the word. “With a doctorate and everything! I guess that means something, right?”

You open your mouth to protest, but he simply snakes a hand around your waist and firmly walks you to his car in the parking lot. A Strex company model, of course. He even takes the care to buckle you into the passenger seat.

You fall into a little doze after giving Kevin your new address. It only takes a few minutes for him to get there. He turns off the engine of his car and gets out when you do, as if you need help to walk up your driveway. You don’t — he merely walks along behind you, and waits on the porch as you unlock the door.

“Thank you for the interview, Dr. de Souza.” There’s that smile again, and he reaches out to shake your hand.

You take his hand, which… weirdly, feels sharper and stronger than before. “No problem. I look forward to hearing it. 2 o’clock tomorrow, right?”

“Yes, 2 o’clock. Perhaps some other time we can conduct another interview, and you can tell us even _more_ about what someone of your job station does!” The enthusiasm in his voice seems to ricochet up and down at any given moment, going by the way he stresses his syllables. “For now… good night, Ricardo.”

His hand slithers out of yours. In the porch light, for a brief second, you could have sworn you saw _claws_. That’s ridiculous. He was perfectly groomed earlier. When you shook his hand on your first meeting, you saw a flash of trimmed nails and felt his soft skin against your own. Claws. You're imagining things. You watch as he saunters off, not sure whether to go inside and close the door behind you yet. 

“Oh! By the way…” Kevin calls, from halfway down your drive, “did you know just how _imperfect_ you are? I love it. It’s _amazing_.”

You nod, not sure how to take that compliment. “Good night, Kevin. See you around.”

You watch as the car peels away, and then slip into your house, slamming the front door behind you. You inspect your hand again. You’ve had urticaria since you were a kid — if Kevin had claws, the scratch marks would be showing up on your hand and wrist in weals. But your hand is fine. You turn it over a few times, just to make certain, but there’s nothing there.

 _No_ , you reason with yourself. It was just your mind playing tricks on you. The product of a frayed mind after a long journey. Why would Kevin, the friendly radio host, _want_ to hurt you? Why would Strex want to keep somebody like him on their payroll? Questions that seemed to fade out of your mind as you fumbled in making up your sofa bed. And setting your alarm, again, placing your phone in the docking station across the room. 

This time, you just go for the simple alarm tone. No shoe gazing indie ballads this time. Just a plain old klaxon that’s guaranteed you out of the land of nod and into the working world. 

You lie back against the pillows, and finally curl into a restful position. You don’t dream visually that night, but these words seem to slip in and out of your mind. The mantra proves enough to bring about a deep sleep. Something you haven’t had in absolutely ages. You welcome it with open arms.

_Look around you. Strex. Look inside you. Strex. Go to sleep. Strex._

_Believe in a smiling god…_

_Strex Corp. It is everything._


	3. Chapter 3

Kevin got back to his apartment in the central area of the city roughly quarter of an hour later. He merrily swung his keys in his hand in the postal room on the first floor, slipping his hand through the slot to see if anything had arrived for him. 

Strex don’t usually like to send company information through the post. It’s so horrendously old fashioned, in their eyes. Corporate e-mail will do. Small deliveries come via the company drones, dropped onto one’s balcony or porch. 

But, every once in a while, Strex do use snail mail. Not that they doubt the security of their own network, but some documents need to be burned after reading.

Kevin’s hand found purchase on an A4-size padded envelope, and he quickly extricated it from its hiding place. This was it! Something Strex had been promising him for a little while now. They really did  _care for all of their employees. Like a family._  The radio host clutched the document in his arms, eager to read it the moment he got into his apartment.

The apartment Strex had provided for Kevin was rather utilitarian. A bedroom, a bathroom, a living room and a kitchenette. Not that Kevin really ever bothered cooking much at all. Or sitting around, watching TV like some foolish, unproductive wastrel. 

He preferred to spend more time out of the apartment. But, like everybody else, he needed to touch base at home every night to recharge his batteries. For Kevin, that was the only reason for its existence. Strex had occasionally offered to move him around whilst he was working his way up the corporate ladder. Now he had been installed as Desert Bluffs’ eternally chipper radio host, Kevin had grown used to this particular apartment complex in the metropolitan area, and politely declined an offer for a bigger place.

He supposed he would have to take Strex up on their offer when this new project finally gets rolling.

Kevin shifts into something slightly more comfortable as he sinks down onto his old couch, carefully this time. The framework is on the verge of breaking apart entirely. The claw marks in the upholstery do add character, though. He slips the paper out of its sheath, and flicks on a nearby lamp so he has some light to read by.

Strex are always extremely thorough in researching their candidates for employment. The document outlines a fragmented life history of Dr. de Souza, a few photos of his _imperfect_ _self_  paper-clipped on the side. He could hardly have noticed the men in dark suits following him around.

Quite _why_ Ricardo was chosen, out of millions of other people in the country, was a mystery known only by the supercomputers deep within the main Strex Corp building. Algorithms were processing day and night, trawling the Internet for data from social networks, online journals, and academic material. The results of the candidates most likely to benefit Strex would be printed out and deliberated over whenever the company needed fresh meat. A new batch of recruits, ready to put their all in to their work and make Desert Bluffs such a wonderful, happy community. Technology was so convenient!

It just so happened that Ricardo was the sole candidate they had picked during this recruitment cycle. It had taken Strex a few years to ascertain Ricardo’s suitability for one of their career paths, but now he was here, it made more sense to find a way to anchor him to the town as well. 

Kevin was called into a boardroom several months ago, with the news that a match had been found for him. The relationship could be friendly, platonic or romantic, but he _had_ to latch himself on to the new scientist, coercing him to stay here. Some people had… unfortunately ran away from Desert Bluffs over the years. _Now, why would you want to do such a silly thing?_  

He hated having to report those poor, silly people who’d kicked the bucket all by themselves. They had been perfectly fine one day, and then suddenly, remembered life back home and tried to get out of Desert Bluffs. _Without filling out the approved paperwork!_ If they were lucky, they became vulture-pecked skeletons out in an endless desert. That, or they were quietly disposed of by Strex’s black ops team.

When Strex discovered their employees were engaged in industrial espionage or were too much of a threat to the companies, the employee would get a free trip to a room that specialised in psychological conditioning and neural technologies to zap those pesky, nasty memories away. (Somebody with a rather sick sense of humor had designated it the first room on the first floor.)

If the employee had particularly aggrieved the company, they got a bullet between the eyes. But why get rid of a good, hard worker over a simple grudge? Just wipe their memories at the first sign of rebellion. They'd come back into work like a whole, new person! 

The radio host had sworn to fulfil his duty to the company. 

His fingers brushed over the photo of the new scientist. He had a short intake of breath — the images did not do him justice in real life. How could a man be so wonderfully imperfect like that? 

Ever the professional, Kevin would not have let his nerves take over his duty tonight. He rarely got to meet new people at all. He assumed he’d been introduced to everybody in Desert Bluffs by now, and his broadcasts were heard in every home. So, even if he hadn’t met somebody in person, they would feel like they knew him already.

Dr. de Souza had an amiable personality too — the kind Kevin strived for every single day. (It could be _exhausting._ ) The way he tripped over his words and occasionally lost his train of thought was positively darling. Some members of the Strex family might find this frustrating, but that was hardly fair. The potter does not begrudge the lump of clay while it is being transformed into something beautiful.

Kevin wondered what Ricardo was doing right now. Possibly resting, clinging to his memories of home like a security blanket. Maybe he’d tried to call his parents already. Not that the line would connect, of course. Strex’s agents had already seen to that.

Ricardo was born in North Carolina to two New Yorkers on vacation, according to the dossier. He grew up in Queens, in an upper middle class home. His father was a legal professional, and his mother had dropped out of law school and instead taken up a career in accounting. The happy couple had filed for divorce when Ricardo was young, and Ricardo had elected to stay with his mother. His father still visited, however, and he would tutor his son on the weekends to help him pass the entrance exam into an inner-city private academy. Ricardo had impressed the principal during the interview, and passed the exam with flying colors.

He flipped towards a part of the file marked: ‘School.’ This stage in Ricardo’s life seemed to have been one of the busiest. Captain of goodness knows how many teams and clubs, winner of multiple science competitions, invited to a state conference for young gifted and talented kids, during high school he helped to supervise a summer camp for those interested in the scientific fields. He’d gotten into his first choice of college, and from there, gone on to continue his higher education into a Master’s and then a PhD.

Kevin breathed. Ricardo was _brilliant_. Just the kind of talent Strex liked to nurture. He smiled as he thought of a wonderful idea. He could invite Ricardo into the studio some time for a _proper_ interview. Or, perhaps, he would do it over the phone. Yes, that was surely a better way of going about it. Didn’t want him to get the jitters!

He and the scientist were going to get along splendidly, he would make sure of it. 


End file.
